


Retreat

by geekmama



Series: Molly Hooper, Girl Detective [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 03:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8270861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekmama/pseuds/geekmama
Summary: These last few months had been an idyll, better than one of those romance novels she used to read... But unlike those novels, there would be no happy ending for her...





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the "Heart" prompt.
> 
>  
> 
> ******************************

So. It wasn’t a game any more.

Molly swallowed hard, looking at the results of the over-the-counter pregnancy test that she’d just used to confirm what she had suspected for the last week.

 _Molly Hooper, Girl Detective_ was going to have Sherlock Holmes’ baby.

She gave a rather helpless laugh, sinking down from where she was perched on the edge of the tub to sit, her back against the side, her bottom on the tiles of the floor. It was cold, but the hard surfaces steadied her, which was all to the good. She had to think.

Fortunately, she had time and to spare in which to do so. Sherlock was gone out of town on a case, taking John with him since Molly had been scheduled to work the night shift all week, ending with a double shift to cover for Mike Stamford. Mike’s wedding anniversary was on Friday, and he and his wife were off to a bed and breakfast in the Cotswolds for the weekend, just the two of them, leaving their children with Mike’s parents.

What a delightfully ordinary celebration. What bliss to be surrounded by such love, to take it as a matter of course, as one’s due. To know that words like caring, devotion, and commitment were the bones of one’s life, the air one breathed.

Molly heaved a great sigh, and tears stung her eyes as she brushed her hair back with a trembling hand. These last few months had been an idyll, better than one of those romance novels she used to read.  She hadn’t had time for novel-reading lately, not when her days -- and _nights_ \-- were taken up with satisfying work at Bart’s, learning a new craft -- Sherlock had taken her ambition seriously and was as exacting a teacher as she could have wished -- and discovering what heaven an _affaire_ with the consulting detective could be. But unlike those novels, there would be no happy ending for her. At least…

She placed one hand over the warm flesh that housed the child. _Their_ child. And she could not help smiling a little.

The smile faded, though, when she thought of telling Sherlock. _She_ might believe he’d make a good father, but she doubted if he’d ever so much as considered himself in such a role in his life, and she was much afraid he would be furious at the situation. She shuddered. She’d seen him in a strop any number of times, but this…

He didn’t have to know right away, of course. Though he would, wouldn’t he? His skills in deduction were effective in far more than merely crime solving, and coupled with his recently acquired very intimate knowledge of her…

Panic welled up. But no! She took a deep breath and bit her lip, drawing her knees up against her chest, protective, stable. Swallowing hard, she firmly shoved fear aside, along with grief for that _idyll_ \-- insubstantial, unsustainable.

She would worry about Sherlock later -- perhaps much later. She had leave time built up, and her godmother in St. Ives had been asking her to visit for ages. She would go, Saturday morning, after her double shift. She’d tell Mrs. Hudson, text Mike, and write a note for Sherlock: She would visit an ailing friend, one with whom she must keep faith, a friend who needed peace and quiet, and some tender care.

It was, after all, little more than the truth.

 

~.~


End file.
